


Fool Me Once

by Kerkerian



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, MacWhump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24230455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerkerian/pseuds/Kerkerian
Summary: Mac's a little more battered after a mission than he lets on. Luckily for him, Jack has an inkling that something's wrong and goes to check on him...
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 163





	Fool Me Once

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own MacGyver.
> 
> So I watched the MacGyver reboot for the first time and immediately LOVED it, meaning I watched all three available seasons in one epic binge and then started typing manically. Which is how this happened...

Most of the time, Jack loved his job. There were exceptions, obviously, for example when they were outnumbered by the bad guys and Mac was making his Seriously Doubtful Face, which meant that he wasn't entirely sure that whatever he'd come up with to save their butts was actually going to work. Other than that, Jack thrived on the adrenaline and the knowledge that they're contributing to the greater good, and for the most part, it's fun. Unless, of course, something happened to Mac or any other member of their team, something that could easily spiral their missions and the respective outcomes out of control, or which left the person or persons concerned seriously injured.

He pondered this as he let himself into Mac's house; the kid had been deceiving him on their way home from Wolgograd, pretending to be tired but otherwise fine, when it was obvious that he wasn't. For one, he held himself rather stiffly, betraying that he wasn't as uninjured as he wanted to make the others believe, and secondly, his eyes had a shuttered look that meant he wasn't as relaxed as he pretended to be. Therefore, Jack had only gone home for a quick shower and change of clothes, then he headed over to Mac's.

Bozer, who hadn't accompanied them to Russia, was still at the Phoenix, being at a “tricky stage” with Sparky. Jack paused after closing the door behind himself, listening; everything was quiet.

“Mac?” he called, listening again, but there was no answer. Frowning, Jack quietly made his way through the house, checking the kitchen, the living room, the patio and Mac's room before he knocked on the bathroom door: “Mac? You in there?”

Nothing. He was about to turn away when he heard a faint groan that didn't bode well.

“Mac? I'm coming in, okay?” Jack didn't wait for an answer that very likely wasn't coming anyway, and opened the door. His stomach dropped unpleasantly at the sight that greeted him, and he was on his knees before he even made the conscious decision to do so. Mac was clinging at the side of the tub, haphazardly wrapped in a towel, his face white as a sheet, and looked as though he had unsuccessfully tried to get up but was about to keel over any second instead.

“Mac, talk to me.” Jack supported him with one hand and put the other on Mac's cheek in order to make him focus on his friend, a tiny bit relieved when Mac's gaze came to rest on him, though his eyes were heavily lidded and his skin was clammy. He was trembling, too, if from the exertion or being cold or both, Jack couldn't tell.

“What's wrong, kid?” he asked urgently, unable to hide his concern.

“Blacked out in the shower,” Mac muttered, and it was obvious that speaking was an effort. “Fell.”

“And because you were already injured, you're now looking like this,” Jack said, realizing by Mac's momentarily sheepish expression that he had guessed right.

“How'd you know?” Mac asked.

“Oh, come on, why do you think I'm here? That's because I know _you_ ,” Jack said. “And I'll have a serious talk about this with you later. Right now, just tell me where you're hurt and if it's bad enough to warrant a 911 call.”

“It's... not that bad,” Mac ground out, trying to sit up a bit more, immediately aborting the motion with a hiss, however.

“Could've fooled me,” Jack muttered.

“S'riously, 'm fine,” Mac insisted. “Just hit my head... and landed on my back... pretty hard.” He paused to catch his breath.

“This isn't what being fine looks like,” Jack said, forcing himself to remain calm. Even though part of him was furious with Mac for being so stubborn and with himself for not hauling the kid's bony ass to the med bay as soon as they had gotten back, right then wasn't the time for reprimands.

“Did you throw up?” he asked.

“No.”

“Seeing double or anything?”

“No.” Mac closed his eyes for a few seconds, which was emphasizing his exhaustion.

“Let's get you off this floor and into something dry,” Jack therefore said gently. “Okay?”

Mac nodded, only to unexpectedly pitch forward as soon as he let go of the tub. Fortunately, Jack caught him in time.

“Hey, hey,” he said, more worried than he let on. “We need to coordinate a little here. Remember Azerbaijan?”

A brief grin flitted over Mac's face, but he grimaced as Jack carefully helped him to get up. He barely managed to get his legs under him, and he was secretly grateful that Jack had come by, otherwise he'd probably not have made it out of the bathroom so soon.

Slowly, they made their way to Mac's room, where Jack eased him onto the bed, then found Mac some clothes: “Once you're decent- well, technically it'll be only _half-_ decent, since you can't put on your shirt yet-I'm gonna have a look at your back.”

“It's fine,” Mac repeated, but as soon as he moved to put on his underpants, he turned white once more.

“Oh yes, I can see that.” Jack sighed. “Come here, give that to me. I promise I won't look.”

Mac looked mutinous, but admittedly he needed Jack's help, so he handed him the pants.

“In the hospital, they don't even give you pants,” Jack pointed out. “And the nurses don't bother to look away. So consider yourself lucky you got me.”

Mac couldn't help but laugh, which immediately made him gasp from the pain it caused. “I know... I'm lucky... to have you,” he panted.

Jack regarded him, not liking at all how much trouble Mac's ribs were apparently giving him: “As long as we're clear on that,” he said airily, but his elation turned into dismay when the towel finally came off all the way and revealed a rather long cut across Mac's ribs, just below his heart.

“What- Angus Herman MacGyver! Why didn't you tell me you had a wound!”

“Herman?”

“Yeah, I needed to add a middle name so it sounded sterner. Doesn't matter now, we're still on that.” He pointed towards the wound.

Mac did his best to look contrite: “It stopped bleeding. I was gonna tape it-”

“Unbelievable.” Jack shook his head. “I don't think I've ever met anyone so pigheaded, and that includes Matty!”

“It's really no big deal,” Mac muttered tiredly, sounding very young and vulnerable all of a sudden.

Jack's expression softened: “Yes, it is, but I'm not gonna get into this with you right now.”

Mac's back was one giant bruise, and it turned out that he had hit his left shoulder rather hard as well.

“Next time someone throws you over their head, tell them to aim for something soft,” Jack muttered, shaking his head once more. “Mac, I'm not gonna lie to you. I'm not calling 911, but I want this looked at, and I think that cut might need stitches.”

Mac opened his mouth to protest, but Jack held up his hand: “It's not up for discussion. I'll call Dr. Sinderby, end of story.”

“There's really no need-”

“It's either Dr. Sinderby or the hospital, your choice.”

“I only need some rest and a few painkillers-”

“If you're concussed-”

“I'm not-”

“But if you _are_ , I sure as hell won't give you any painkillers at random, and certainly not on an empty stomach. Oh yes, I've seen how you picked at your food on the plane.” Jack folded his arms in front of his chest and stared at Mac: “So what's it gonna be?”

An hour and a half later, Mac was tucked in bed and already feeling drowsy from the painkillers the doctor had given him while Jack walked Dr. Sinderby out: “Thank you for coming by, Doc. Appreciate it.”

The doctor gave him a sardonic smile: “Well, I am after all familiar with both agent MacGyver's aversion to 'being fussed about' in my infirmary and how often your line of work is putting you in rather hazardous situations. And it was absolutely right of you to call me, considering.”

Jack inclined his head: it turned out that Mac had indeed sustained a mild concussion and two fractured ribs on his back. Those (along with his badly bruised shoulder) were very painful and would take some time to heal. At least there weren't any signs of internal injuries, for which Jack was grateful.

The doctor had given him a prescription for further pain medication and a package with dressing material as well as some salve for the wound, which had required stitches: “Change the dressing daily and use this. If the wound shows any signs of inflammation, give me a call.”

“Will do.”

“And make sure he eats, Dalton. He can't afford to lose any more weight. He'll disappear.” With that, the doctor turned to go.

Frowning, Jack went back inside.

Mac looked as though he had fallen asleep in the meantime, but he began to blink when Jack peered in: “Jack?”

“I'm here.” He walked over to the bed, regarding his friend: “You okay?”

“Yeah. I'mma sleep.” Mac's speech was already slurred. “Can you get me another blanket?”

“Sure.” Jack went to the living room and returned with a heavy woolen throw from the couch, which he spread over his friend. Mac, who was still or again shivering a bit, gratefully burrowed deeper under the covers.

“Better?”

“Much.”

Not quite convinced, Jack waited until he could see that the shivering was abating.

He regarded Mac: “I'm gonna head out to get these prescriptions filled and buy some groceries. You gonna be alright while I'm gone?”

“Course,” Mac muttered, not opening his eyes again. “Thanks, Jack.”

Jack had expected Mac to say something along the lines of not needing a babysitter, but apparently, he had accepted his fate for now. Jack felt himself brimming with the same kind of helpless affection that he always felt around Riley, and really, for all that he and Mac considered themselves brothers, he sometimes rather felt like his younger friend's dad.

“Anytime, kid,” he now murmured. “See you later.”

The answer was a faint hum as Mac was finally dozing off.

When Jack came back, Bozer had just arrived as well and looked puzzled as to why Jack was carrying two large shopping bags.

Jack filled him in while they put away the groceries: “- which is why I'm gonna cook tonight,” he concluded, smiling.

Bozer sighed: “Thanks, man. Wow. It's just like Mac to try'n get away with something like that.”

“He's as stubborn as they come.”

“Yeah. Always was. Which reminds me- never get into a staring contest with him, you hear me? I made that mistake once, in third grade, and I've never been the same again afterwards.”

Grinning, Jack shook his head: “Noted.”

Bozer then hesitated: “Jack- I appreciate how you're looking out for our boy at all times. He tends to neglect himself when he's busy, you know?”

“I know,” Jack said quietly. He looked around the room before he continued: “The doc's right, Boze. Mac is strong and fit, but he's still thin as a rail. It's not healthy. Just now, he couldn't even get warm.”

Nodding, Bozer gave him a small, unhappy smile: “I'll help. I haven't done much cooking lately, but it's pancakes for breakfast from here on out, and a square meal every day.”

“He'll know what's going on,” Jack said, at which Bozer shrugged: “He'll just have to deal with it.”

Mac woke up much later, around nine. For a while, he just lay still, trying to get his bearings. He was still tired and there was a dull, familiar ache in his body, telling him what he'd been through, but his bladder was making itself known. He tried to sit up, gasping with pain the moment he moved too quickly. Panting, he heaved himself into an approximation of an upright position, then rolled sideways and out of bed. When he was finally on his feet, his eyes were swimming and he felt dizzy.

Once that had passed, he padded over to the bathroom. He had noticed a packet of pills and a large glass of water on his nightstand; he was going to take some more painkillers when he was back in bed and then hopefully sleep through the night.

Jack and Bozer, who were watching TV, heard the door; both of them made to get up, but stopped themselves, exchanging a look.

“Can't make the mother henning too obvious,” Jack muttered, so they stayed put.

When Mac peered into the living room a few minutes later, looking tousled and still rather worse for wear, Jack just nodded at him: “Alright?”

Mac's eyes narrowed: “What's going on?” Even his voice wasn't up to its usual strength.

“Nothin',” Bozer replied innocently. “We're watching _Moonlighting_.”

“ _You_?” Mac sounded incredulous. “You said _Moonlighting_ was forever on your black list because it effectively ended _Riptide_.”

“Yeah, I did,” Bozer nodded contemplatively. “And _Riptide_ 's forever gonna hold a special place in my heart, bro. But Jacky here convinced me to give it a try, and it's not so bad.”

Mac still looked sceptic: “Did Jack have some kind of dirt on you?”

“Hey, what kind of sleazebag are you taking me for?” Jack raised his eyebrows, glad to see that this was eliciting a small grin.

“You feeling better?” Jack then asked.

“Yeah.” Mac avoided his gaze. “Just a bit sore.”

His friend decided to let that slide: “You hungry? I made lasagna.”

“The best lasagna I ever had outside of Italy,” Bozer confirmed.

Mac's eyes narrowed again, but then he nodded, or at least began to, before he flinched and aborted the motion: “Sounds good.”

Jack got up: “I'll go and reheat it. Wanna watch _Moonlighting_ with us?”

“Nah, I'm good.” Sitting down on the couch seemed an impossible task and apart from that, he really wanted to take another painkiller soon, therefore Mac followed Jack to the kitchen and gingerly slid onto a barstool.

“You didn't have to stay,” he said quietly. “But I'm glad you did.”

Jack, who had just turned on the oven, slowly broke into a smile: “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mac returned the smile. And even though he still looked as though someone had put him through the wringer, it was the best thing Jack had seen all day.

“Me too, kid,” he said, beaming. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm not a Native Speaker, therefore I apologize for any mistakes.


End file.
